Butterflies
by SantittanyForever
Summary: AU Brittana. Short drabble from Brittany's POV. Contains mature themes.


You gaze upon Santana's sleeping form, her captivating beauty leaving you breathless. You watch the steady rise and fall of her chest, thankful for each delicate breath that ghosts through plump, parted lips. You bring your hand up to rest on her arm, fingertips barely touching caramel skin, touch light as a feather, trailing along until your fingers are loosely intertwined with hers.

You smile as you see a barely noticeable quiver shimmer just beneath her skin, as if her body is reacting to your touch. You are so in love with her. Your heart aches just from looking at her; you find yourself constantly in awe of her, so proud to call her yours, but there's always that small part of you that is wrought with fear, fear of losing her like you almost did a few years ago. That thought dredges up memories of that time, some murky and some clearer than a crystal blue ocean.

You throat tightens as you begin to remember more; Santana's initial struggle to accept herself, then her parents refusal to acknowledge her as their child once she had been honest with them about who she was. You remember the turmoil she went through, the countless sleepless nights, nights spent holding her as she wept in your arms, shaking, broken. Your trail of thought eventually leads you down that path, the one you knew was coming yet you cannot stand to stay on for too long.

Your eyes drift back to her sleeping form, your gaze coming to rest upon her arms, splayed out across the bed, fists clenched loosely. You first take your time studying her left arm, adorned with intricate tattoos, the beautiful swirls and breath-taking images never ceasing to amaze you. You let your eyes linger upon your favourite part of the stunning artwork; a pair of butterflies, painted every colour of the rainbow, vibrant and alive. Wings intertwined, they frolic together, without a care in the world. You adore this image the most because it represents you and her, as you both are now, happy, so full of love and joy.

But your eyes then travel over to her right arm, your stomach clenching, heart sinking a little as you gaze upon the irreversible damage inflicted there. For this arm is covered too, but its patterns are not quite as beautiful as the other. You sigh sadly, taking in the countless scars, criss-crossing mercilessly over one another, marring her ochre skin.

Your mind takes you back to that one day in particular, the day when everything became a painful reality for the both of you. You remember Santana ringing you, voice small, cracking on every word. You recall the immediate panic you felt, rushing out to your car while speaking in soothing tones to her, just knowing that something terrible had happened. You remember hearing a choked, "I'm sorry", before the resounding click of the phone being put down. You think your heart actually stopped beating for a second in that moment, your mind and body overcome with sheer and utter terror, fear of the unknown and the desperate need to be by her side in that moment.

You remember speeding to her house as fast as you could, jumping out of your car and racing up to her front door, not bothering to knock, knowing her parents wouldn't be home; they had made it very clear that they didn't want to be anywhere near their daughter while she was suffering from such a disgusting 'disease'.

You recall approaching the upper landing, climbing the stairs with a soft urgency. You moved to walk towards Santana's room, but your attention was stolen by a quiet sob coming from the bathroom to your right. You think about how you took a few tentative steps, pushing the door open slowly, afraid of what you would find. And you were right to be afraid.

You remember seeing Santana, sprawled on the floor, face scrunched in pain, eyes slowly clouding over as the life drained from her with each passing second. Your eyes landed on the blade falling swiftly from her limp hands, her arm swathed in angry cuts, oozing and dripping onto the white tile floor. You cried out, racing to her side, lifting her deflated body, cradling her head in your lap, trying to steady your panic-stricken breathing as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, hastily dialling for an ambulance.

You then think back on the months following that moment; finding out that she had become infatuated with the notion that taking her own life was the only option she had left; the doctors telling you that if you hadn't arrived when you did, she wouldn't have made it. And then began her recovery process; Santana's visits to the therapist, which included reconciliation sessions with her parents, which actually began to take effect after a while, much to Santana's joy; and then, Santana finally accepting herself, realising that her own happiness was just as important as her parents'.

And that's what leads you to today, lying in bed with Santana next to you, except she's no longer your girlfriend; she's your wife, the one person who completes you and makes you feel like anything is possible. You smile a little as she twitches in her sleep, a content sigh escaping her lips. It's only then that you realise that her hand has clamped around yours, it must have sometime during your reverie while you were distracted by your thoughts. You lean down and kiss her knuckles lightly, before you're startled by a soft giggle. You look up, only to be met with Santana's chocolate brown eyes, crinkled as she smiles at you, her face a picture of complete love and devotion. It takes your breath away every time.

"Were you watching me sleep?" She whispers, tone light, voice still groggy from awakening from her slumber.

"Maybe." You giggle, ducking your head to bury your face in her stomach. "I like it. When you sleep, your face is so calm, so free of stress or worry. It's beautiful."

She giggles again, turning to half hide her face in her pillow, at the same time wrapping her hands around your shoulders and tugging lightly, encouraging you to bring your body up so it is level with hers. You comply, resting your body atop hers gently, kissing her cheek, causing her to turn back to you, your noses almost touching. You feel your heart falter as her breath glides across your lips, butterflies fluttering manically in your stomach, your eyes entirely hypnotised by all the beauty she encompasses.

"What were you thinking about?" She murmurs.

It still amazes you how well she knows you; she's always been able tell when you've got something on your mind.

"I was just thinking about..." you trail off, bringing your hand up to very lightly brush against her right arm.

She flinches a little, breath hitching in her throat, until she remembers that she's just with you and she's safe. You see her body relax, eyes softening, as she gazes up at you.

"You saved me during that time. You know that? You're my guardian angel, Britt. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

You don't even know how to respond to such an honest admission, so you simply lean down and place a soft kiss upon her lips, settling in between her legs, before resting your head on her chest. You love just lying here and listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat, the slow pulse soothing you in a way most things can't.

"I love you". You whisper into her skin, snuggling closer to her.

"I love you too." She breathes, tangling her fingers in your hair.

And in that moment, you feel an almost unsettling calm descend upon you both; the kind of feeling that tells you that everything is going to be okay. And you know it will be. Because she has you. And you have her. And right now, when you're wrapped up in her strong arms, and she can feel your comforting warmth emanating from your body, that's all either of you need.


End file.
